The Odious Duke Read online

  Her Ladyship had been widowed in the previous year and, after a lifetime of attending to the needs and whims of a somewhat demanding husband, she was finding time heavy on her hands. She could have asked for nothing more enlivening than the company of her Goddaughter.

  On their way to London Verena and Miss Richardson had decided that they would inform Lady Bingley that the General had sent them to London because he was convinced that Verena needed a rest after having nursed him so devotedly and for so long.

  “A rest?” Lady Bingley queried. “What you need, my dear, is some gaiety. I have often thought of you mouldering away in that flat damp insalubrious part of the country without, I am convinced, a sign of a beau or even the chance of a flirtation!”

  “I have been very happy ‒ with Grandpapa,” Verena said with just the faintest tremor in her voice.

  “I am very sure you have,” Lady Bingley replied, “but there is no gainsaying it that your grandfather would never see seventy-five again and, although he was a handsome dashing buck in his time, he is hardly the type of partner one would ever choose for the delightfully improper new-fashioned waltz!”

  Verena laughed at that and Lady Bingley continued,

  “The Season is just starting and I am sure we can contrive that you will enjoy yourself, even if I must be honest, my dearest, and say that I cannot see my way to getting you invited to balls of the first flight.”

  Lady Bingley, who had been very attractive in her day and still had a certain corpulent charm, came from a well-known County family and was well aware of the difference that lay between the invitations received by a debutante of the finest blood and by one who must hang somewhat precariously on the fringe of the Beau Ton.

  Then she gave an exclamation,

  “I have just thought of something which is indeed fortunate. I am having an At Home here the day after tomorrow and quite by chance I encountered an old friend of mine last week, Lady Studholde. We were at school together but since her husband is so wealthy and has some minor position at Court, she now moves in a very different world from mine. However, I have invited her Ladyship to come and honour my little party on Thursday and she has accepted. If she comes and should take a fancy to you, Verena, then things could be very different.”

  “Why would they be?” Verena asked in an uncompromising voice.

  “Because, my dear child, Lady Studholde not only has two sons of marriageable age but she is also chaperoning a daughter in her second Season. What could be more delightful than that you and Sybil Studholde should attend parties together?”

  Lady Bingley drew in her breath rapturously at the thought and then added with a little sigh,

  “Unfortunately Sybil has not much countenance, the poor girl! So I doubt after all if Lady Studholde would risk the comparison between you and Sybil, which would be all too obvious!”

  “You mean I am too pretty?” Verena asked.

  “You have grown into a beauty,” her Godmother told her. “In fact for a moment there I could hardly believe my eyes when you walked in through the door! Remember, child, I have not seen you for two years and the change is indeed remarkable.”

  Her Ladyship sighed again before she continued,

  “If only I had taken pains to keep up my acquaintance with Lady Jersey and Lady Cowper, both of whom I knew in my youth, then your success, my dearest Goddaughter, would be assured.”

  At the mention of the names of these two patronesses at Almack’s, Verena remembered that Major Royd had told her that he could ensure her entry to that ‘Holy of Holies’.

  She thought to mention to her Godmother what he had said and then decided against it. She was certain that he must have been mistaken. It was unlikely that he knew such glittering stars in the Social firmament and, if he did, they would be unlikely to accept her on the introduction of a young man!

  Verena put her arms round her Godmother’s shoulder and kissed her soft cheek.

  “It is far too kind of you to worry about me,” she said. “I shall be happy just by being with you. I have no wish for balls and Assemblies. It is only Grandpapa who is anxious for me to enjoy them, which I am very sure I will not.”

  “That is sheer fustian, my love. But you leave everything to me. I promise you I will do what is best for you. After all we already hold in our hands the most important introduction of all.”

  “And what is that?” Verena asked curiously.

  “That you are exceedingly pretty, my dear.”

  Her Ladyship in fact expressed more confidence in her powers to introduce Verena to the Social world than she actually felt was possible. No one knew better than she did the obstacles and difficulties that the great Social hostesses were all too swift to raise if they sensed that there was the slightest presumption on the part of some country wench to enter their magic circle.

  An exemplary wife, Lady Bingley had been quite content with the company of Lord Bingley’s friends, who had been mostly connected with the legal profession or of aged Peers whom he encountered in the House of Lords.

  Now she regretted bitterly her indolence in not making a push to include in her hospitality the friends she had known when she herself had been a girl or to have kept up a correspondence with country neighbours of her family whose aristocratic lineage entitled them when they did visit London to move in the loftiest circles.

  However, she did not despair. Her Ladyship had often regretted not being able to give Verena a more amusing time on her last visit. But the girl had certainly then not been the beauty that she was now!

  “The first thing that Verena must have,” Lady Bingley said to Miss Richardson when they were alone, “is really fashionable gowns. Has the General made any provision for her expenditure on this visit?”

  Miss Richardson was ready with her answer.

  “Yes, indeed, my Lady,” she answered. “The General has said that Verena can spend any money she wishes, in fact he has commanded her to buy everything of the best.”

  The former Governess paused for a moment before she added,

  “I don’t think, my Lady, that I shall be betraying a confidence if I tell you that on the General’s death Verena has inherited a fortune of over ninety thousand pounds besides her Grandfather’s house and estate.”

  “Ninety thousand pounds!” Lady Bingley exclaimed faintly. “Then the child is an heiress! With her good looks and all that wealth, we can indeed find her a husband of the very best standing.”

  Miss Richardson, who knew well the whole story of Captain Giles Winchcombe-Smythe and the General’s opinion of him, hoped that Lady Bingley would not be disappointed.

  At the same time she realised that the General had been wiser than anyone had expected in planning that Verena should at least have her chance to see the world before she threw herself away on someone so completely unsuitable.

  *

  On the following day Verena spent a most enjoyable time in Bond Street. Armed by Lady Bingley with the addresses of the most expensive dressmakers and, spending over an hour in Miss Tuting’s millinery shop in St. James’s, she then returned to Manchester Square with the landau so filled with boxes, parcels and bags that there had been hardly room, when they had collected their purchases, for the vehicle to include herself and Miss Richardson.

  Like Verena’s looks, her taste had improved too and Lady Bingley was delighted with the gowns she had chosen.

  “I am somewhat appalled at such fantastic extravagance,” Verena commented.

  “It is never an extravagance to buy something in which you not only look your best but feel your best,” Lady Bingley replied.

  Verena, remembering the gowns that she had worn on her last visit to London, had been determined that this time she would not look rustic whatever her feelings might be.

  And the gauzes, satins, lamés, laces, ribbons, feathers and flowers were all, she felt, the ammunition that her grandfather would have wished her to be provided with in making an onslaught on the Social world.

  Sh
e recognised with some bitterness that this was an enemy she had to fight with all her strength were she to achieve even a minor victory.

  When it was time for bed, Verena lay awake for some time thinking of her home and of Major Royd.

  She had in fact several times during the day wondered how he was faring and regretting that he could not have convalesced for a few days longer before setting out to ride Salamanca to Eaton Socon. It was but two miles, but she feared that the motion of the horse beneath him would aggravate his head and perhaps start it aching again.

  The Duke had attempted to hide the pain, which had at first been almost intolerable, but Verena knew how much he had suffered.

  Now, remembering his bravery, she was ashamed that she should have bewailed to him and Miss Richardson her grandfather’s instructions instead of making the very best of them.

  Her thoughts lingered so long on the Major that she chided herself for not being more elated by the realisation that she could how marry her cousin Giles.

  She told herself it was only through reluctance to break her promise to her grandfather that she had not decided immediately on her arrival in London to discover Giles’s whereabouts.

  ‘The War Office could inform me where his Regiment is stationed,’ she thought.

  It was, however, a difficult decision. Should she find Giles and tell him that the General was dead? Or should she respect her grandfather’s wishes and wait three months until the notice appeared in The Gazette.

  On the Thursday morning Verena remembered that Major Royd had promised that he would call that day, but there was no sign of him before luncheon although, when she went out once again to the shops with Miss Richardson, she left a message with the butler to indicate what time they would return.

  Miss Richardson left after luncheon to return to the country.

  She had done her duty in bringing Verena to London, but now her former pupil was so safely in the hands of Lady Bingley, she wished to return to her cottage, her dogs and her cats.

  “I have invited all my guests for four o’clock,” Lady Bingley told Verena, when Miss Richardson had departed. “I have sent out quite a number of extra invitations informing my friends of your arrival here and hoping that they will honour us today and make your acquaintance.”

  “How kind you are,” Verena exclaimed.

  “I went right through my address book yesterday,” Lady Bingley continued, “and found several friends who have daughters about your age and a number who have sons. But you know as well as I do, my dear, it is the older women who can take you up or give you a set-down. So I do beg of you, my dear child, to make yourself charming to the Dowagers!”

  “I will try,” Verena promised.

  When finally she was dressed, she looked at herself critically in the long mirror in her bedroom, before repairing downstairs to the salon.

  Her gown from Madame Bertine, the most exclusive, most sought-after Court dressmaker in all of Bond Street, had cost what seemed to her an inordinate sum. But there was no doubt that it set off successfully the darkness of her hair with its golden lights and made her skin seem almost dazzlingly white.

  Satisfied with her reflection Verena turned to go downstairs only to be called to her Godmother’s bedchamber.

  “Come here, dear child,” Lady Bingley said, looking resplendent in black taffeta trimmed with Chantilly lace. “I have a present for you!”

  “A present?” Verena echoed.

  “I hope you will like it. I wore it myself when I was your age.”

  Verena opened a velvet box and found inside a string of beautifully matched pearls. Their soft lustre, when she clasped them round her long white neck, gave her a touch of glamour she had never known before.

  After an affectionate embrace Verena and Lady Bingley descended to the salon on the first floor where more extensive preparations had been made than was usual at one of Lady Bingley’s At Homes.

  Arrangements of carnations, lilies and roses decorated the tables in the spacious L-shaped salon, which, with its long windows, high ceiling and Adam fireplace, was a convenient room to hold a Reception in.

  The furniture was heavy, having been inherited by Lord Bingley from his father, but it was solid and the satin-damask curtains and covers on the sofas and chairs were pleasing to the eye if not sensational.

  “As I have asked so many more people than usual,” Lady Bingley said to Verena, “I have engaged two extra footmen and as old Johnson is growing deaf I nearly always on these occasions hire an experienced man to announce my guests.”

  Verena had already caught sight of an awe-inspiring man looking uncommonly like an Archbishop, standing at the top of the stairway. She was not at all surprised when his voice matched his appearance seeming to intone the names of the arrivals melodiously as he announced them.

  Lady Bingley’s friends had rallied to her clarion-call or perhaps her description of Verena had been flattering enough to make them curious.

  Anyway they came up the stairs one after another, the majority of them on the wrong side of fifty.

  Nevertheless there were a few elegant young bloods who took one swift appraising glance at Verena and decided that they were not wasting their time in such an unfashionable area as Manchester Square.

  Then just after half past four of the clock Verena caught sight of an exceedingly handsome face and a pair of broad shoulders behind an aged gentleman who was propelling himself slowly upwards with one hand on the banisters and the other on an ivory stick.

  “Mr. Justice and Lady Pollard,” the announcer announced loudly.

  As the elderly couple moved forward to shake Lady Bingley’s hand and to be introduced to Verena, she managed to catch the Duke’s eye and to smile dazzlingly at him.

  There was no mistaking, he thought, the gladness in her face as he waited to be announced and wondering what name he should give.

  But the pontifical announcer had been engaged over the years by most of London’s leading hostesses. He was surprised to see the Duke in Manchester Square. Nevertheless he had announced His Grace on many occasions that there was no need for the formality of enquiring his name.

  As Lady Pollard took her hand from her hostess’s and offered it to Verena, the Duke was announced in stentorian tones,

  “His Grace, the Duke of Selchester.”

  For a moment Lady Bingley felt paralysed.

  Next she thought humbly that there must have been some incredible mistake. Never in her most ambitious dreams had she anticipated that the most sought after and the most eligible bachelor in the whole of the Ton would ever grace a party of hers.

  She had indeed imagined a little foolishly that with Verena’s looks she might contrive to inveigle Lord Cumberford or even the young Earl of Paddington to one of her Receptions.

  But never would she have aspired to invite the Duke of Selchester, who was very well known to be so exclusive and fastidious in his choice of entertainment that it was said that the Prince Regent before he came to the Throne had on a number of occasions to plead with him to accept an invitation to Carlton House.

  “You must please forgive me my intrusion, my Lady, when you are entertaining,” the Duke was saying in his deep voice and Lady Bingley had almost to force herself to listen to him.

  “I am – most honoured, Your Grace,” she managed to falter before the Duke continued,

  “My excuse is that naturally I would wish to welcome to London my relative, Miss Verena Winchcombe.”

  “Your ‒ relative?” Lady Bingley queried at once, feeling that in her astonishment she must be stammering.

  “Yes indeed,” the Duke replied. “Did the General never tell you that my great-grandfather married a Winchcombe?”

  “No, I don’t think ‒ he did,” Lady Bingley answered.

  Even as she spoke she realised with a swelling sense of satisfaction that after the announcement of the Duke’s name there had been a sudden silence in the crowded Reception room.

  The chatter had then s
tarted again, but Lady Bingley saw with a full heart that Lady Studholde was not far from the door and could not have failed to notice the new arrival.

  The Duke moved several steps from Lady Bingley to Verena and encountered two eyes flashing at him with an anger so vehement that he could hardly believe that only a few seconds before they had been lit with a smile.

  “Allow me to wish you well, Verena,” he began.

  “How dare you?” she asked almost beneath her breath. “How dare you deceive me?”

  “Lord and Lady Carthwait and the Honourable Florence Carthwait.”

  The Duke, looking down into the white and furious face raised to his said quietly,

  “We will discuss it later. I must not prevent you from greeting your guests.”

  He walked further into the room to be immediately buttonholed by Lady Studholde. She was a woman who had always bored him and he soon extracted himself with dexterity, having seen an aged Peer by the window whom he often encountered in the House of Lords.

  He talked to him for a short time, greeted one or two other familiar faces and then walked back to where Lady Bingley and Verena were still receiving guests.

  There was, however, by now only a trickle of latecomers ascending the stairs and the Duke, when there was a pause, turned to Lady Bingley,

  “I wonder if you will permit me to have a few words alone with my relative. My family is eager to meet her and I thought that, if I could talk over with Miss Winchcombe some invitations that I have received on her behalf, especially one from my sister, she could then convey them to your Ladyship when you are less preoccupied.”

  “Yes, of course, Your Grace,” Lady Bingley replied. “And I hope we may have the pleasure of your company when the house is not so crowded.”

  “That is exactly what I wish to discuss,” the Duke answered.

  “I do not – ” Verena started only to be silenced by Lady Bingley,

  “Take the Duke to the morning room, Verena. There is no hurry. No one will leave until they have partaken of the refreshments.”